Crossing Dimensions :2: Reaching for the Stars
by sarhea
Summary: Unspeakable H J Granger has received a new mission. Even though it's a one-way trip to an alien future, she doesn't turn it down and her friends insist on helping her prepare. In her target time/dimension, Captain J T Kirk has his own mission. COMPLETE
1. Reaching for the Stars 1

**Title: **Reaching for the Stars  
**Author: **sarhea  
**Fandoms: **Harry Potter, DCVerse, Justice League, Marvelverse, Star Trek AOS/Reboot/2009  
**Categories: **Crossover, xover, AU, drama, action, romance  
**Characters/Pairing: **Hermione Granger/Jim Kirk (Reboot), Adrian Pucey, Harry Potter, Reboot _Enterprise_ crew  
******Series Title: **Crossing Dimensions, Saving People**  
****Summary: **Hermione Granger is an Unspeakable on a solo mission tracking down escaped Death Eaters. Unfortunately she has to travel across dimensions in pursuit of her targets.  
**Beta: **DelphiPsmith – Delphi hon, I loved working with you  
**Rated: **R  
**Warnings: **some violence, secondary character deaths, some strong language  
**Author Notes: **B7 EWE, Harry's dream of the big happy Weasley family does not happen.  
**For: **LJ hgcrossovers – Hermione Granger Crossover Exchange 2011 – jadecharmer  
**Prompts:  
**6) The war didn't end with the death of Voldemort and has spilled over into other areas/timelines. Hermione is sent to try and clean up the mess and/or train those now caught up by the war on how to deal with magic.  
1) War makes for strange bedfellows (or, the enemy of my enemy is my friend).  
3) I have been known to lie to serve my own agenda.  
2) Changing one moment changes more than she thought.  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hermione Granger, Harry Potter and co, J.K. Rowling does. Ironman, Wolverine, Sorcerer Supreme, Avengers, etc belong to Stan Lee, Jack Kirby and Marvel Comics. Batman, Zatanna, Wonder Woman, J'onn, Superman, Justice League, etc belong to DC comics et al. Star Trek, Jim Kirk, Spock and co belong to Gene Roddenberry, Paramount, J.J. Abrams, et al.

* * *

Summary: Unspeakable Hermione Jean Granger has received a new mission. Even though it involves a one-way trip to an alien future, she does not turn it down and her friends insist on helping her prepare. In her target time/dimension, James Tiberius Kirk has received a new mission of his own: escort a specialist to track down an unidentified anti-tech terrorist.

AN: Sequel to 'Playing with a Bat'. Hermione's parents are dead, due to something non-magical like a car accident.

AN: Post the movie Star Trek: Reboot/AOS/IX/2009.

~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~

**~ooO Reaching for the Stars 1 Ooo~**

Harry Potter nodded at those he recognized as he followed the maitre d' to a private table near the back of the exclusive restaurant. He was surprised to see Hermione was not alone but he did not say anything as polite greetings were exchanged and orders for drinks and appetizers placed. Adrian Pucey was an Unspeakable and co-worker. The reason for this lunch date was probably work related.

Harry waited until the maitre d' left before sitting up straighter and steeling his nerves. "All right then. Lay it on me."

Hermione was taken aback. "Excuse me?"

Harry made a gesture indicating the restaurant around them. "You've refused any spontaneous offers of having lunch together ever since you became an Unspeakable. All our lunches have been scheduled at least a week in advance. And then today you send me a memo asking me to join you for an extended lunch hour." He leaned forward on his elbows. "That tells me you have some bad news to share. Preferably in sort of private neutral territory. Like this restaurant."

The blonde wizard sitting next to Hermione laughed. "He's got you there, Granger! Pay up!"

"Hush up, Pucey," Hermione grumbled as she passed a galleon over. She reached out to place an odd pale-rose crystal geode on the table, tapping it with a fingertip. Soft silvery light lit it up from within. "Privacy ward," she explained seeing Harry's curious look. "The restaurant is run by a former Unspeakable and guarantees privacy, but it doesn't hurt." Her expression turned sober. "You're right. I do have news, probably what you'll call bad news. I've asked Adrian to join us as a neutral mediator. He understands what I've chosen to do, despite having the same reaction you probably will."

Harry blinked. "Now you're making me nervous. You aren't dying, are you?"

Hermione was taken aback. "No. No I'm not."

Harry relaxed a tad. The conversation turned to more neutral topics while they were served their drinks and appetizers. A few minutes later, after finishing off a tiny quiche tart, Harry broke the careful neutral air. "Just tell me."

And Hermione did. She gave him the vaguest details of her last project, and then outlined the dangers inherent in Crossing the Mists. And the fact several Death Eater escapees had fled to other dimensions.

Harry's expression turned grim. "No wonder the Department of Magical Law Enforcement haven't been able to track any of them down! Why hasn't this information been shared with the Aurors?"

Pucey's lips turned down at the corners. "That was Direcawl's decision. He's Head of the Department of Mysteries and a Traditionalist. Anyway, the escapees will not be too much of an issue for much longer. The DoM has been sending teams to retrieve them."

Harry turned to Hermione. "Is that why you've been away so much? Everyone has been sending owls and stopping by your flat, but you're never there."

"Yes." Hermione smiled as she confirmed his conclusions.

"Don't be so relaxed, Potter," Pucey warned the Gryffindor alumnus. "Direcawl really has it for Granger. She's the only one sent solo on the retrieval missions. The ritual to Cross the Mists is draining, and still she's been sent alone, repeatedly, without a break, to catch some of the most insane and lethal Dark Arts users alive today."

Harry's lips thinned. "How many?" he demanded.

"Seven," Hermione answered after a tense silence. "The next one will be the last."

Pucey snorted. "Sure. Because she'll never come back from this one."

"WHAT?" Before he could recover enough composure to demand details, Hermione gave them to him.

"It's my choice Harry. The last escapee modified the Ritual to make it harder to track him down. It was sheer luck we managed to do so. I'm the best choice to go after him. Because I'm Muggleborn, because I have experience working solo and it will be in a highly scientific Muggle society."

Harry shook his head. "I don't get it. What does he mean, you can't come back? You came back from all your other trips, right?"

Hermione nibbled on her breaded prawn and finished half of it before speaking. "My Ritual uses a customizable runic array that allows the caster to step sideways, across the mists separating worlds." Her eyes hardened. "Dolohov modified the array to go across dimensions, and forward. We can step sideways and return to the initial starting point with minimal error, but stepping sideways and forward is far more difficult. Once you step forward the universe is set. You are not in it and the future has been shaped accordingly. If you go back, it changes the future you've been to. Paradox. Going back is different because it's already happened, or will happen. Like Third Year." Her expression was knowing, alluding to the time they rescued Sirius and Buckbeak from the Ministry.

Harry turned to Pucey. "Why does Hermione have to do it? Aren't there others? I mean she created the Ritual! If she goes and never returns…" he trailed off.

Pucey's expression turned weary. "Precisely. She's being railroaded. She knows it. I know it. You know it. But she won't refuse the mission."

Hermione smiled faintly. "If I don't go then someone else will have to. Most of the other Unspeakables are too old and inexperienced with fieldwork, or they're young with families and children. I'm an orphan without a boyfriend or many friends who'd miss me."

She had sent her parents to Australia to protect them from Death Eaters. After the Battle of Hogwarts she had been unable to go and retrieve them immediately; there was too much that needed to be done. Ten weeks after Voldemort died Hermione travelled by International portkey to Australia only to find her parents had died in a car crash three weeks after they had arrived. While she had been running from Snatchers her parents had been buried under the names Monica and Wendell Wilkens.

Harry blinked back tears. "I'll miss you!"

Hermione reached out and squeezed his hand. "And I you. But I can't stand by and let someone else track down Dolohov."

Cold fingers ran down Harry's spine. "Dolohov? Antonin Dolohov?"

Hermione smiled grimly. "Yes. And you know why I can't let this go. We know how dangerous he can be. There is a ninety-four percent chance he'll kill anyone sent after him."

"And you're going after him by yourself?" Harry was horrified.

Hermione shrugged. "Direcawl will only authorize one person to neutralize Dolohov. A volunteer-only mission. If I don't volunteer, no one will. Be honest, Harry, who would volunteer to go on a one-way trip to an alien world with no magic?"

Harry opened his mouth and then shut it. He knew the answer as well as Hermione. No one. No one except her. He looked at her more closely and saw she was frightened. Terrified by the choice she had made. Begging him to support her. Just like she had supported his decision to walk out and face Voldemort. She was the closest thing he had to a sister and he was losing her. He would never see her, never know if she died of old age, or in agony and pain, if she fell in love and found a new family, or died a spinster…

She had made her choice. The best thing he could do was support her. He inhaled deeply. "Okay. Have you told anyone else of your one-way trip? Have you made any plans or packed?"

Hermione blinked taken aback by his unexpected acceptance. "N-no…" she stammered. "Well, I told Adrian and Padma because they're Unspeakables also. I want to tell Luna, Neville and Minerva in person. Everyone else is getting a letter after I leave," she confessed.

Harry snorted. "Want to avoid Molly's Howlers, don't you?"

She nodded sheepishly.

"Can't blame you." Harry sat up straighter and pushed back his glasses. "First off, you're going to get a hefty settlement from the Ministry. This is a voluntary one-way exile for the benefit of Wizarding Britain and they owe you future salary you're giving up. Direcawl will give up a percentage of his budget to help kit you out with everything you could possibly need, at least for a few years while you're tracking down Dolohov and settling down. We should also check with Gringotts. The Goblins might have methods of communicating across the Mists."

Hermione blinked back tears. "Harry…"

He held his hands up. "Don't go crying on me, 'Mione. I owe you a great deal. Since you aren't going to be around for me to pay off, I'm going to make damn sure you get everything to help keep you alive and fed. Do you have any details of this world you're going to?"

"Yes."

"Good. Give me what you can and let's start putting together a shopping list. For Magical and Muggle stores. The Ministry is damn well going to foot the bill for this, so don't hesitate to put down anything you think you could use." Then he noticed the peculiarly intense expression of the older Slytherin. "What?" he demanded.

Pucey shook his head. "Just surprised, Potter. Didn't realize you had it in you."

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Ruthlessness. You're going to gouge the Ministry for everything you can get."

The explanation was simple for Harry. "It's for Hermione. She kept me alive when we were in Hogwarts, and after. I'm going to make damn certain she lives a comfortable life wherever she ends up." His expression hardened. "If Kingsley and Direcawl don't like it they can just suck it up, or I'm giving an interview to Rita Skeeter on how they're sending a war heroine on a one-way trip to a magicless dimension with no money or resources to live."

Hermione choked on her drink. "Harry!" she sputtered in admonishing tones.

Harry refused to feel guilty. "It's nothing but the truth, Hermione!"

Pucey laughed.

Hermione shook her head. "Let's just order lunch. We have to get back to work."

Harry shook his head. "Why don't we not," he countered. "I'll let Kingsley know we're taking the next few days off to help you prepare for your trip." He turned to Pucey. "Want to join us?"

Pucey grinned. "Sure, why not? I definitely want to make sure the shopping bill destroys Direcawl's discretionary budget for the next few years."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest then shut it. Harry and Adrian did have a point. It would be only fair to have Direcawl pay for her supplies.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Captain James Tiberius Kirk hissed and threw down his PADD. The _Enterprise_ had just missed catching the Anti-Tech Terrorist. He'd used the chaos caused by the destruction of Antiga's orbital station to escape undetected.

Kirk glared around the conference table that seated his senior staff.

"This is unacceptable," he enunciated clearly and frigidly. "We had the bastard pinned down on Antiga III. There was a complete lockdown on transportation from the surface to anything in orbit. Giotto! Spock! What happened?"

The Vulcan First Officer looked uncharacteristically perturbed. "It is undetermined at this time, Captain," he admitted. "Lt Giotto and I have confirmed there was a complete transportation lockdown. The target was on the surface. There is no logical explanation for how he managed to get onto the orbital station."

Jim inhaled sharply. "There is an explanation, gentlemen, and I expect you to find it." He turned to stare at the stars through the transparent aluminium windows. "The target killed fifteen thousand on Antiga and the orbital station. And that is just the newest number to add to his score." He looked each of his senior staff in the eye in turn. "I know criminal investigations and anti-terrorist actions are not our usual duties, but the Federation is running thin now. We cannot risk losing the trust of the member nations to violence. Admiral Pike has offered to send a specialist to help us track the target down." He smiled grimly. "I had hoped we could have finished this on Antiga, but it looks like we'll be waiting for the specialist from the Admiralty."

There was a small tense silence that only Nyota Uhura was brave enough to break. "Do we have an ETA or any other details on the specialist?"

Uncharacteristically Jim ignored her and tapped his PADD. "Sulu, we need to be at these co-ordinates in two hours. The shuttle Ganymede will be waiting for us with our new guest."

Hikaru Sulu responded promptly. "Understood, Captain."

"Good. I'll be in my Ready Room. Comm me when we're five minutes from the rendezvous point. Giotto, Spock, go over every scrap of data and try to find something."

Giotto stiffened in his chair. "Yes, Sir!"

Spock assented calmly. "Affirmative, Captain."

Jim turned and stalked towards the doors which slid open for him. Once he was out of the conference room they slid shut, leaving his officers in a tense silence that was broken by the _Enterprise_ CMO, Doctor Leonard 'Bones' McCoy.

"He's real pissed right now, so if y'all have any sense you'll stay outta his way."

It was good advice and taken to heart by everyone.

~o~

Over the next two hours the senior officers and their departments put all of their efforts into trying to determine just what had happened on Antiga. Chekov and Scotty worked with Spock and Giotto to re-create the events via computer simulation. Uhura went over all the comm records trying to determine if there had been any unrecognized warning messages. McCoy focused on soothing the younger, more high-strung crew members who had been badly affected by the failure on Antiga. The deaths reminded everyone of the devastation suffered during the Battle of Vulcan and the _Narada_'s attack on Earth.

Jim Kirk brooded in his Ready Room, writing, reading and signing off on reports. He forced himself to write condolence letters to the families of the five crew members who had died on Antiga, then threw his stylus down and raked his hair back. He loved being a Captain, but this part of the responsibilities was one of the most difficult. He hated losing his crew. It reminded him too much of his own loss, of his father.

The comm chimed. He reached out and tapped the interface built into the desk surface. "Kirk here."

"Captain, we are approaching the rendezvous point. The Ganymede has confirmed their passenger will be ready for transport in ten minutes."

"Very good, Lieutenant. Ask Commander Spock and Lieutenant Giotto to join me in Transporter Room Two."

~o~

Ten minutes later Jim Kirk, Spock, and Andre Giotto were in Transporter Room Two awaiting the arrival of the specialist from Admiral Pike.

"The Ganymede reports they are ready for transport," the transporter tech informed the waiting senior officers.

Jim turned towards the platform. "Then energize."

There was a column of silver shimmer and swirls of energy that shaped itself into the outline of a female form. When it finally faded, a young human female in her mid-twenties stood on the transporter pad.

She was not tall, and more curvy than slender with light brown curls restrained at the nape of her neck and flowing down her back. She was not gorgeous or even striking, with understated, unremarkable features and dark brown eyes. Her skin was free of cosmetics, creamy with a light tan. She wore a long flared grey skirt and matching vest over a high-necked, full-sleeved pale cream blouse. Black boots laced up the front, and she carried a black satchel over one shoulder. As she stepped off the pad the skirt swirled around her legs gracefully.

Jim stepped forward, holding out a hand. "I'm Captain James Kirk." He turned, indicating his officers in turn. "This is First Officer Commander Spock and Chief of Security Lieutenant Giotto."

To his surprise she held her hand out, palm down and fingers curved to point downwards, the opening for an old-fashioned gesture. Without hesitation, he took her fingers gently in his and bowed over the back of her hand, brushing a kiss against her knuckles.

She chuckled throatily. "Well met, Captain Kirk. My name is Hermione Granger. I am the specialist from Admiral Pike." She turned her head to meet the eyes of all three officers. "I greet you. Now," her tone turned brisk. "Why don't we get down to business? I need to meet your senior officers as soon as possible. And I'll need you to change your course to these coordinates." She rattled off a series of numbers. "I'll explain at the meeting."

Jim frowned but nodded. "Do you have anything else that needs to be transported over?"

She smiled and patted her satchel. "I have everything I need in here."

As Jim led the small group to the reserved Conference Room he kept up a stream of small talk and idle flirtations. To his surprise, she did not respond to his banter but merely smiled and did not say anything. Jim was put out by her non-reaction and upped his efforts.

By the time they finally reached the conference room her expression was one of patient tolerance. As they entered the room she finally spoke. "You don't have to flirt with every female in sight, Captain."

Uhura was not quite successful in hiding her reflexive smile to the newcomer's comment.

Jim looked offended. "I don't flirt with every female in sight!"

Hermione Granger ignored his statement and continued in the same tolerant voice. "I happen to be the only, ergo every, female in your field of view. You were flirting. It qualifies."

Bones snorted. Jim ignored him. "I reserve the right to take offence. I only flirt with people I'm attracted to."

Hermione Granger arched a knowing brow. "Now I must disagree. I don't believe that claim since I know I'm not your type."

Now Jim took genuine offence. "Oh really? And what is my type?"

Her response was quick and undaunted. "Tall, slim and gorgeous. Attractive people tend to date attractive people, and you are very attractive, Captain."

Jim was taken aback by the compliment and sting wrapped as one. "You think I'm that shallow?"

She tilted her head to one side, studying him intently. "No…" Her response was drawn out and thoughtful. "Not really. But it is your first preference."

Jim frowned. Mentally he went over his dating history and realized she was right. Everyone he had dated had been physically exceptional specimens of their species.

"You're right," he admitted. "Attractive people catch my attention - but only the intelligent ones keep me coming back." He smirked. "You know what they say: the brain is the biggest sexual organ."

She stared at him and shook her head bemusedly before moving to the front of the room to set her bag on the table. She reached into it and pulled out three items. A red beaded ladies evening bag. A chunk of pink crystal. A slender rod of carved wood, twenty-five centimetres long. She picked up the geode and handed it to Jim, who was sitting closest to her. "Examine it. Reassure yourself it is an ordinary chunk of crystal."

Kirk explored the rough facets and edges, then passed it to Bones who was sitting next to him. The crystal made its way around the table and finally reached Spock, who scanned it with his tricorder.

"An unremarkable chunk of rose quartz, one point two three kilograms in mass."

Hermione Granger held up the slender shaft of wood. "Would you please come forward and scan this, Commander Spock."

The Vulcan ran his tricorder along it. "Fifty year old Lebanese cedar, twenty-three point five centimeters long, one point five five in diameter at the widest point tapering to zero point six three at the other end. There is an unrecognizable organic substance in the core. It emits an almost indistinguishable energy signature in a very rare narrow spectrum." Spock's eyes narrowed. "It is in the same range as the energy signature detected at the other terrorist sites and Antiga." A murmur ran around the table at these words.

Hermione inclined her head. "Very good, Commander." She turned to the table and held up the shaft of wood. "I want you to suspend your disbelief and questions for ten minutes. Ignore the impossibilities and only consider the possibilities." She waited until everyone around the table had signalled their agreement before continuing. "You've seen and read the reports on psis, espers, paths, kinetics, clairvoyants. There is irrefutable evidence they are real and they exist. In some cases you've even encountered them personally. Consider the possibility of a small subset of humanity capable of wielding energy that manipulates matter on the quantum level; beings who can do all that and much, much more. Every fairy tale and nightmare and myth has a core of truth, stories born from a real, but seemingly impossible, event. That magic is real."

She tapped the tip of her carved stick on the crystal which began to glow with an internal light as bright as a portable lantern. She moved the tip of the stick in an intricate pattern. Feathers and butterflies burst from the tip and fluttered around the room. When the crew reached out and touched them they disintegrated into iridescent dust that vanished before hitting the surface.

The crew watched in as she created a set of intricately carved cut-glass goblets and drew a pale pink translucent liquid from the tip of her wand, directing the liquid to fill each glass. She picked up one half-full glass with her left hand and sipped from it, then raised the goblet in a toast.

"In vino veritas. If you dare, feel free to drink. You're going to need it before this meeting is over." She took another sip, then added, "Admiral Pike downed half a bottle during my presentation."

Jim was the first to take up her dare. Rose wine. Light and refreshing. One by one the crew followed his example, except for Spock and Chekov.

"This is impossible," Spock murmured. "One cannot create matter out of nothing."

Hermione Granger snorted indelicately. "Who says it is created out of nothing? I'm giving up a portion of my energy. The molecules and energy in the air are being compressed and reshaped into the form I desire." The corner of one mouth lifted in a half-smile. "In fact, transfiguration could be considered the magical equivalent of replicators. Only it is not so limited as your technology."

"So what are you?" Bones asked cautiously.

"I am a witch. The male equivalent is wizard. My people use wands as a focusing tool and channel." She held up the shaft of wood. "Magic is possible without a focusing device, but the effects are more erratic." She replaced the wand on the table, then pointed her finger at Chekov who exclaimed in surprise as his gold tunic turned blue, then red, then back to gold.

She picked up the beaded evening bag, opened the clasp, and thrust in first her hand, then her forearm, then her whole arm all the way to the shoulder - into a bag that was less than fifteen centimetres along its longest side.

She tossed the bag to Chekov who warily tested the phenomenon for himself. Pushing his hand in up to the elbow, then pulling it out, feeling along the inside for the limits, eyes widening when he realized there _were_ no limits.

She took pity on the baffled science staff. "An expansion charm," she explained. "A self-contained subspace pocket without the limitations of technologically created ones." Her nose crinkled. "Think of it as a Mary Poppins bag."

Bones coughed, choking on a stifled laugh.

Hermione merely smiled and watched the bag as it was passed around the table, various crew members taking turns trying to find the bottom. Hermione grinned as she watched the Vulcan, in particular, struggle to make sense of what his senses were telling him. He looked dazed.

"This is impossible," he murmured. "There is no such thing as magic."

Dark brown eyes lost all warmth and amusement. "Is that so, Commander Spock?" Her voice was cold. Before anyone could reply she picked up the wand and pointed it at Spock, murmuring something softly. Blue energy poured from the wand's tip and enveloped the Vulcan completely in an opaque glowing haze, before it shrank to a globe the size of a football and faded away. Once the haze was gone, and everyone could see again, Commander Spock was gone.

"Miaow!" An indignant feline yowl pierced their ears, and they turned to see a large black cat, yellow eyes narrowed in irritation.

McCoy voiced the question on everyone's mind. "Where did that cat come from? Where's Spock?"

The cat miaowed again, louder and more insistent this time. The creature hissed and yowled before leaping up onto the Conference table. From the chair that had last been occupied by Spock.

Uhura's voice raised an octave. "Turn him back!"

Stony brown eyes did not recoil from the anger in the Kenyan-born officer. "No." Hermione turned to the others present. "Any questions?"

Jim stared at the cat that, he strongly suspected, used to be his First Officer. Intellectually he knew he should be afraid and concerned. He should make the same demands as Uhura. He opened his mouth to speak and surprised himself with what came out. "Will you have dinner with me?"

Everyone turned to look at him. Including a thunderstruck Uhura and a yowling black cat.

He smiled wryly. "Anyone who can push back and put me, Spock, and Uhura down firmly is someone I want to get to know better."

Hermione looked at him with a bemused expression, then away, shaking her head. "Why don't we end the meeting at this point? All of you have been subjected to several strong paradigm shifts and a bit of information overload. Go and eat, relax and think on what you've heard and seen. I suggest we reconvene tomorrow morning at eight to continue."

McCoy blinked. "You mean there's more?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Of course there is. Do you think Admiral Pike would pull strings to send me to the _Enterprise_ for no good reason?"

Understanding dawned in several faces.

"There is a magical aspect to the Anti-Tech terrorist," Lt. Giotto surmised.

Hermione inclined her head. "Yes."

The black cat on the conference table growled and patted its paw on the polished surface.

Jim coughed discreetly. "Miss Granger, would you mind turning my First Officer back? He's not much use to me as a cat."

Hermione watched him, catlike, then waved her wand and murmured something indistinct. A stream of light poured from the tip of her wand and enveloped the Spock-cat. This time the light was more orange than blue. It grew and expanded before fading to reveal Commander Spock crouching on all fours on top of the conference table.

He looked confused then embarrassed as he slid off the table. "I am... uncertain as to what just occurred."

"Meez Granger turned you into a cat!" Chekov pronounced gleefully.

Spock tugged down on his tunic. "Impossible."

McCoy snorted. "You can review the security videos yourself! You turned into a small black cat. And you yowled!"

Spock looked around in consternation, disturbed by the nodding heads and agreeing expressions from everyone, including Uhura. He turned to Hermione but she paid him no attention, busy re-packing her belongings in her black satchel.

Standing next to her was the Captain. "So, will you have dinner with me?" he repeated in a low voice.

She looked amused by the Captain's beguiling, charming smile. She patted his cheek in a commiserating fashion. "Sorry, Captain, you're too much for me to handle." She turned to Doctor McCoy. "Doctor, do you mind showing me to my quarters?"

Jim couldn't believe she had turned him down. In favour of Bones. What on earth did she see in Bones? Not that he wasn't a good guy and all… But he was grumpy old Bones!

McCoy was taken aback by her request but he pulled himself together. "Yeah, sure. It's on the way to Sick Bay."

"Thank you. It's been a long day." She turned and walked towards the door.

After a fractional pause the Doctor followed and matched her pace. "I've had days like that, Miss Granger. Of course, most days on the _Enterprise_ end up being like that. Jim could find trouble on a stellar cartography mission."

She made an understanding sound. "I completely sympathize. I've got a few friends whose middle names could be Trouble. Because it finds them like water in an ocean."

Behind them, in the conference room, Jim's confidence rebooted. So he'd lost the first skirmish. It didn't mean he was out of the running!

~o~

Hermione found her room cramped and ill-suited for entertaining, but otherwise serviceable. She replicated snacks to be consumed while she caught up on the Starfleet mission files her clearance allowed her to access.

They contained a great deal of disturbing information. But Hermione was used to disturbing information. Once she was satisfied she had a good grasp of the general picture, she asked the computer to wake her at six-thirty and went to bed.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

The next day she woke up a little sore from the unfamiliar bed, but filled with more energy. She had just finished dressing after her quick shower when the door intercom chimed.

"Come in," she called out.

The door slid open to reveal one James T. Kirk.

Hermione sighed. "You're not going to give up, are you?" It was more of a statement than a question.

He grinned cheerfully. "Nope."

She grabbed her bag and walked towards the door. "You're more than welcome to try changing my mind on our way to the meeting."

He smiled brightly. "I'll take you up on that." He held out an arm.

After a small hesitation, she looped her arm through his and followed him out.

Hermione had no intention of being distracted by a too-intelligent, too-beautiful male. She had a mission to complete and it was more important than anything else. But despite her efforts to remain stern and unyielding, she could not completely resist his charm as Kirk walked her to the rec room reserved for their next meeting.

~o~

Doctor Leonard McCoy made a commiserating sound as he slipped into the chair next to her. "I know how you feel."

Hermione put down her coffee mug and turned to the Georgia-born doctor. "Excuse me?"

"You're trying to resist the Jim Kirk charm and failing. It's more potent than any drug and nearly as inescapable as a black hole."

She made a soft sound of agreement before picking up her mug and drinking her coffee. She watched as the _Enterprise_'s officers trickled into the room one by one, softly talking to each other, occasionally looking in her direction. Hermione pretended to be unaware, intent on reading the contents of her PADD, but when the last member - Lt. Uhura - arrived she put the PADD away and stood up to walk to the front of the room.

Once she had their attention she began speaking, using her magic to illustrate her points.

"I want you to treat the Anti-Tech terrorist as a being with undetermined psi capabilities. To me and those of my world, he is a wizard, a Dark Arts practitioner. His name is Antonin Dolohov, and I have been tracking him down for months now. His primary weapon is his wand. And he is more dangerous than any terrorist or alien race you have encountered so far. Feel free to observe and record as you see fit."

From there she went into a brief demonstration illustrating the more common transfigurations, charms and hexes, spells designed to delay, damage, protect, or conceal. All throughout the demo, the senior officers experimented, trying to breach or deflect her magic. They used tricorders to record the results, feeling by turns shock, awe, and some dismay.

"Ve cannot penetrate your shields vith phaser fire," Chekov noted.

"Forget that! My tricorder and phaser shorted out when I tried to get too close while she was doing her thing," Sulu snorted.

Hermione inclined her head. "Yes. Electronics tend to do that around heavy magic-saturated areas."

Spock made a soft humming sound. "It might be possible to compensate. If we can determine the exact energy frequency on which your spells work…."

Hermione laughed softly. "You can try, Commander Spock. Unfortunately, most spells have different frequencies based on the wand used. However since Dolohov is the only mage in your universe, it might be possible to design and build something that will contain him. If we can catch him."

McCoy spoke next. "Your magic affects the physical world. Can it affect flesh? Can it affect the mind?"

All laughter drained from her expression. "Very much so. You saw what I did to Commander Spock. Spells can do almost anything a modern weapon can to a physical body, and some you would never even dream of… Blood boiling curses, entrail expelling hexes, flesh eating curses, nightmare hexes, unclottable cutting curses, the list is almost unending. The Dark Arts are like drugs. In small amounts they can heal, in large quantities they are poisons that taint and kill. And there are some curses that are Unforgivable." She fell silent, unwilling to speak.

But McCoy seemed to catch onto the implication in her words. "Would this Dolohov use these Unforgivable curses?"

His heart sank when Hermione confirmed his suspicions. "Yes. There are three. From lowest to highest, they are Imperius, the control curse. Cruciatus, the pain curse. And Avada Kedavra, the killing curse."

Spock frowned. "Why are they Unforgivable?"

Hermione gave him an acid look. "I think causing possession, torture, and murder are good enough reasons."

Spock did not react. "Are they the only spells that can control, cause pain, or kill?"

"No," Hermione admitted.

"Then why are these three called Unforgivable?"

Brown eyes widened then narrowed as she comprehended his question. "Most magic can be treated, or stopped by shields or warding or a protective charm. The Unforgivables cannot. The only defence is a dense physical barrier - a mountain, a boulder - or a long distance. And because there is an emotional component to the spell that makes them very addictive to the caster. You must want to control and dominate to use the Imperius. You must enjoy and want to cause pain to use the Crutiatus. You must hate and want to kill to use the Killing curse."

Everyone looked grim at her explanation, but it was Jim Kirk who asked the logical question. "Can you cast these curses? At least, under controlled conditions? Spock and his department may be able to configure the scanners and tricorders to detect the specific energy signature. If we have some warning, we can take precautions."

Hermione responded in solemn tones. "I can. It is best to do this on a planetary surface. I cannot be certain of how badly it will affect any electronics."

A small frown creased Kirk's brow. "I can understand why the pain curse and the killing curse could be considered Unforgivable, but a control curse?"

"The Imperius curse is the most dangerous and insidious of all, Captain Kirk. Dead is dead and pain is pain, but Imperius destroys the soul and the heart. Can you imagine the guilt a husband would feel when the spell breaks and he realizes he raped his wife and killed his own children? Or a law-abiding citizen walking into a civic centre and setting off a bomb without his conscious intent?" Looks of understanding horror dawned on all of their faces. "Dolohov could not have succeeded on the scale he has without assistance, and he is the only other mage we know of that remains in your world. His compatriots have been…neutralized. For each of the attacks, he probably used Imperius to control dozens of locals. For example, he could have told them to break into specific buildings carrying a bomb, or set off a certain alarm-"

"Or put a shuttlecraft on a collision flight path." Sulu was horrified.

"Yes. If he was in danger of being caught, he could have used the Imperius to escape as well. Your security officers would not even be aware they had been controlled for a few crucial minutes."

McCoy frowned. "Is it possible to detect if anyone is under this mind control?"

"The most common indicator is glassy, wide eyes. The victim might be obsessively focused on one particular task. There would be personality shifts if the caster is looking for a slave rather than a sleeper agent."

McCoy turned to his First Officer. "Spock, can you work on modifying a tricorder to detect this curse as well? Part of the protocol will be random scans to check returning away teams for it."

Hermione listened and approved their pro-activeness. Starfleet needed to know if one of their own was compromised.

The meeting ended with everyone assigned to various projects, all focused on identifying and tracking down one Antonin Dolohov, the Anti-Tech terrorist.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

TBC…

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AN: Next part is almost a month into the future

Review, Review, Review


	2. Reaching for the Stars 2

Summary: With the help of the _Enterprise_ crew, Hermione Granger locates her target. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, before everything is over more secrets are revealed and confessions made.

AN: Takes place almost a month into the future. A lot has happened between then and now. Will be touched upon through references.

AN: Post the movie Star Trek: Reboot/AOS/IX/2009. Please note this is just after Reboot ends, most of the episodes of TOS have not taken place (Kirk is in his 30s in TOS). The AOS crew will not be as familiar with weirdness as the TOS crew. For example nu!Kirk has not met Tremayne (Squire of Gothos). The AOS crew are used to alien races with advanced tech and one or two unusual abilities, not an entire spectrum.

~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~

**~ooO Reaching for the Stars 2 Ooo~**

Waiting in the transporter room, Jim Kirk tapped his PADD more forcefully than necessary. Every instinct screamed at him to join the away team. In the three weeks since Hermione Granger's arrival the _Enterprise_ had managed to track Dolohov to the Sierra system using human intel (extracted from various spaceship crews, space stations and ports using liquor and Veriteserum) and science (Spock's modified tricorders and sensors). Unfortunately, the Sierra system had been claimed by the Klingon Empire. In fact, there was a Klingon trading outpost on Sierra V.

"Why this system?" Jim murmured out loud. "All his past targets have been human or Federation worlds."

"He might be spreading out, Captain," Scotty pointed out. "The lass said Dolohov hates non-magicals. Aliens dinna do magic."

"He plans to do more than that," Hermione announced as she and Spock strode into the transporter room. Spock wore his usual science-officer uniform, phaser and tricorder snugly resting in the belt around his waist. Hermione's long flared skirt and tunic-style blouse were topped with a long leather trench coat made of some blue-black reptilian hide and matching boots. "He intends to cause a slaughter using Imperiused humans."

Scotty and Jim stared at the witch, horrified. Seeing their expression she expanded. "The Klingons will be justly outraged by humans attacking a claimed populated world. If he managed to steal any Starfleet tech it will most certainly be planted. With no living witnesses and lots of evidence, what do you think the Empire will do?"

"They'll declare war on the Federation," Jim concluded numbly.

"A war that will bleed both the Federation and the Empire. A war where death, destruction and chaos will go unnoticed, or be blamed on the opponent."

"How certain are you?" Jim wanted to know.

"Ninety-six point seven one percent," Spock murmured.

Jim turned to Spock. "Have you found him?"

Spock shook his head. "Sensors have failed to detect him but Miss Granger pointed out he could be hiding behind shielding wards. She can detect and break them but she has to be on the surface to do so."

The intercom chimed. Jim moved towards the console and tapped it. "Kirk here."

It was Uhura. "Captain, there have been reports of escalating violence between the Klingons and various merchant vessel crews on the planet. I have suggested the merchant captains pick up their crew members and leave orbit, but they have refused and we have no legal grounds to order them to do so. It is not a war-zone, not yet." Uhura's voice was grim.

Jim considered the information. "Uhura, inform Giotto to prepare two additional security teams to join Spock." He tapped the intercom, closing the channel, and turned to Hermione. "Are you sure I can't change your mind about this?"

Her expression was gentle but unyielding. "No. Your crew cannot handle Dolohov. I have to be there or he'll escape and re-start this whole mess."

Jim stared at her with a naked, vulnerable look. For three seconds he just stared at her before coming to a decision. Five steps later he was in front of her.

She had accused him of flirting, of playing with her, with any attractive female. In the three weeks she had been on board he had worked to prove otherwise. And in the course of those three weeks Jim 'Tomcat' Kirk had found himself falling hard and fast for her. It had started out as a game and now a terrified Jim found himself torn between the primitive instinct to keep her safe and the need to protect his crew and the Federation.

He had to trust her. He had to trust and believe in her ability to look after herself.

He cupped her face in his hands, ignoring her questioning look and bending down to kiss her thoroughly, uncaring of their audience. It was not the best place or the best time for a heart-felt confession but he needed to do this.

Reluctantly Jim broke the kiss and shifted his hands down to her shoulders, drawing her close against him. He pressed his forehead against hers, tips of their noses rubbing against each other.

"Come back to me."

It was not a request. It was an order.

For a fractional second he felt her stiffen against him before softening and subtly yielding. Her response was soft but audible in the quiet. "I will."

Jim moved his hands down over her arms, sliding his right hand down to keep a grip on her left as he turned towards his First Officer. "Look after her Spock."

If the Vulcan had suspected, or if he was surprised, he did not show it. "I will, Captain."

Jim Kirk stepped back and watched his First Officer and not-quite girlfriend step onto the transporter pad. He inhaled deeply. He didn't want to do this, but he had to. So he gave the order.

"Energize."

~o~

Hermione sat in the tiny cramped waiting room, waiting for Spock to finish his meeting with colony governor. She had been in slight shock since they had transported down to Sierra V. Since Jim Kirk had kissed her and ordered her to return to him. Since she had agreed to his demand. While the Vulcan worked his diplomacy, Hermione let her mind wander back over what had brought them to this point.

It was just one moment that had led her here. One moment, six months ago, when her usual determination had been weakened by the overwhelming situation in which she had found herself. Newly arrived through the Mist, she had no allies and few resources in this dimension and no idea where to secure them. At the end of her rope, she had decided to take a break and spend the evening out. She chose a lounge advertised on the public transit info boards. And that very evening she had met Christopher Pike.

He was the first one in this strange new world whom she had trusted to keep her secrets. He pulled strings to give her a legal identity and background. When it became clear Dolohov was off-planet he had recommended the _Enterprise_ as a base for her operations. Once she saw the logic he had arranged for the necessary clearance and mission assignments. He advised her to be more open with the senior staff, the Captain, about herself and her task. She had taken him on his word and had not been disappointed by the _Enterprise_ crew.

And then there was James Kirk. He was a hound dog, a flirt, a chaser. Hermione had seen videos and pictures (and overheard a few stories) of his past lovers and girlfriends, each and every one brilliant and beautiful. Hermione knew she was brilliant, but felt that she fell short in the second category. She did not trust his interest in her. She had experience with males seeking to use her. But for one moment she had changed her usual response to him, one moment where she had allowed herself to weaken and be a woman instead of an Unspeakable on a mission.

She honestly had not expected him to be so persistent and unshakable. She had refused his dinner invitation the first night, and the second, and the third. Instead of accepting her preference he had chosen to join her at breakfast and lunch. Without invitation. On the sixth day she had been feeling low and disheartened, so when he had made his usual offer for dinner she had uncharacteristically conceded and accepted his invitation.

One moment that resulted in her falling in love, and being loved with an intensity and devotion she had never believed she would find. James Kirk loved her: wounds, neuroses, scars, and all. He was not intimidated by or afraid of her magic, her intelligence, or her knowledge-obsessive mentality. He was comfortable letting her fly high and free in skies he could never reach. He did not feel a need to pull her down and chain her to him. They had never said the words out loud but Hermione knew.

Her resolve hardened. She would find Dolohov and deal with him. Once he was no longer a threat, she would have accomplished her mission. She would be free to live her life as she chose; and if it was a life with James Kirk, so much the better.

"Miss Granger." Spock's voice brought her out of her thoughts.

She stood up and moved towards the Vulcan. "How did the Governor react?"

The corners of Spock's lips turned down in a faint frown. "Badly. He refuses to believe that Dolohov is on Sierra V. It doesn't fit the Anti-Tech terrorist's usual M.O."

Hermione sighed. "Klingons see other races the same way Dolohov does. To win their respect and trust we must first prove our strength. In battle."

Spock looked slightly grim. "I believe we will have plenty of opportunity to prove our strength to Kargh, son of Mbrak."

Brown eyes sharpened. "Why? Did you hear something?"

"Governor Kargh received a communiqué during our meeting. The primary hydropower plant is under attack by an unidentified enemy."

Hermione reached out and gripped his forearm, pulling him along as she hurried out of the Governor's Building. Once they were out in the open air and sure of not being overheard she slowed down. "Where is it?"

Spock pulled up a local map on his tricorder, magnifying a certain sector marked with an X. "Here."

Hermione studied the map as she reached under her coat to pull out two matte-black poles around an inch in diameter and as long as her forearm. "I'm going to Apparate there. Inform the _Enterprise_ and transport over as soon as you can."

And before Spock could protest she vanished with a soft pop.

Resisting the urge to swear softly Spock tapped his communicator. "Spock to _Enterprise_."

The familiar voice of Nyota Uhura answered. "_Enterprise_ here."

"We have the location of an in-progress incident. Miss Granger has left to confirm whether Dolohov is present."

"Understood, Commander. Prepare for transport."

~o~

Hermione Apparated into chaos. The stench of burned flesh, spilled blood and voided bowels nearly made her throw up. Nearly being the keyword.

She ignored the bodies, the injured, dying and dead. She had one target and one target alone: Antonin Dolohov. She stunned three humans - a man and two women - who were attacking a female Klingon civilian and used Enervate and Legilimens to extract the information she needed. The man had seen Dolohov only two hours ago. Dolohov would still be around, if only to re-cast Imperius and cause more damage. Klingons seemed to be more resistant to spells and were relentless fighters, even the 'soft' civilian ones.

"Human!"

Hermione cast a wandless Stupefy and turned to the Klingon woman.

"Yes?" Her voice was calm, almost idle as she activated the enchantments on the metallic batons, transfiguring them into miniature scythes, ever-sharp unbreakable _kamas_.

"Who are you? What are you doing-"

The Klingon's question was cut off by the sound of an explosion and the roar of rushing water. Hermione moved, running towards the explosions. If the dam was fully breached the colony down-river would be wiped out in the flash flood.

She was not surprised to find the Klingon female running beside her. "Who are you?"

"I am Hermione, daughter of Jean."

They reached the mesh fence between the power station and the dam. Hermione paused to lash out with both _kamas_. The fencing split and fell apart. Without hesitation she stepped through, the Klingon following her.

"And your name?" the witch asked without turning.

"Freika, daughter of Halda."

Hermione flashed a smile at the Klingon. "Well met, Freika, daughter of Halda. Today might be a good day to die, but I would prefer if our enemies did that."

She stopped near the edge of the cliff where the dam began. The dam was damaged, but not irreparably. Her first instinct was to undo the damage, to Reparo the cracks, but something made her stop. There was something wrong. Something Not Right. She stilled and allowed her magic to expand around her. There! She lashed out with one _kama_, the other raised for the second blow.

Red iron-rich liquid spilled out of nowhere. Then a mortally wounded human appeared out of thin air, landing heavily on the ground before her, gasping and dying.

Hermione kicked the bastard onto his back and knelt down, placing the sharp point of her dagger against his carotid artery.

"Where is Dolohov?" Her voice was colder than the depths of space.

Red froth bubbled in the dying man's mouth. "Near."

She stood and crushed the dying man's throat with her booted foot even as she sheathed one of her scythe-like weapons at her hip. Hermione had learnt through hard experience to never leave an enemy at her back, even a dying one. She could have used a dagger to cut his throat but Klingons only used blades on only admired and worthy enemies. This fool was neither admirable nor worthy. She made a gesture, shaking her right hand and a slender length of wood appeared in her hand.

Freika watched as the human did something that caused odd glowing letters to appear in mid-air, twisting and reforming into something she did not understand.

"You should inform your warriors that your hospitals and schools will Dolohov's next targets."

Freika was torn. On one hand she did not want to let this anomaly, this odd human, wander around unescorted. On the other hand Freika did have an obligation to her House, her community. If the human was right…

She turned and ran. Once the Governor was informed Freika would be back to witness the battles of Hermione, daughter of Jean.

~o~

Hermione was faintly relieved when the Klingon woman left. She did not want any witnesses if at all possible.

She inhaled deeply and gathered her focus for a short Apparition hop. It failed. She opened her eyes with a sense of satisfaction. The security team had evidently finished setting up the Anti-Apparition and Anti-Portkey ward stones. She pressed harder and smiled when she felt her magic meet resistance. Dolohov.

Just then she heard the familiar cultural curses of a thwarted Pureblood wizard vocalized in loud angry tones, coming from somewhere nearby. She turned and started jogging towards the resistance and the source of the shouts. If Dolohov wanted to get away from her he would have to run to escape the five kilometre perimeter set up by the _Enterprise_ crew.

He was trapped.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" she called.

"Mudblood." The voice was thick with contempt.

Her smile broadened at the familiar taunt before she responded in kind. "Death Eater."

She sheathed her kama and pulled out several vials from her belt pack, tucking each one between the fingers of her left hand. The first chance she got, Dolohov was going down.

He was sneering as he stepped out from around the rubble of a building. He looked fit but feral. His physical condition had improved since his escape, but Hermione was quite certain his mental condition had deteriorated badly. His dark brown hair hung limply around his face, his skin was pasty with dark bruises around sunken dark blue eyes, lines etched on his face. He was wearing full black long-sleeved robes, wand out and ready.

The Ministry had not given up on using the dementors to guard Azkaban. The new Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had insisted on additional magical security measures, installed and maintained by teams of mages and goblins, to reduce the chance of a breakout. Of course it had not worked, but Hermione strongly suspected that a sympathizer within the Ministry had helped the escapees.

She raised her own wand, angling her body to reduce her profile. "Dolohov." Her voice was courteous and even. As though he had never destroyed her world. As though his capture or death was not her driving purpose.

His voice held nothing but contempt. "Mudblood."

She did not allow him to bait her. They stared at each other like two gunslingers, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

He broke first.

And then there were flashes of coloured light and shouts in ancient obscure tongues as the two of them duelled, each trying to get an advantage, to take out the other.

~o~

Jim Kirk, on the Bridge, resisted the urge to pace. He glanced at Uhura. "Any word from Spock?"

"Nothing as yet Captain," she said, then stiffened, listening to something in her earpiece. "Wait, I've got something." She turned to Jim. "Spock has modified the tricorders to feed data into an open channel. We have video and audio."

Jim hurried over to Uhura's station. "On screen here," he ordered.

Wordlessly she held out an earpiece for audio. Jim accepted the device and slipped it on as Uhura pressed a sequence of buttons. Three screens lit up, displaying video from different angles: wide angle and close-ups of the almost cinematic battle between Hermione Granger and Antonin Dolohov.

~o~

Hermione inhaled sharply as she rolled, avoiding the Bone Crushing hex, and came up on her knee to shoot off a Sectumsempra.

She could sense the heavy magic saturating the air. Light, dark, violence, lethal intent, rage, hate… it was a toxic cocktail that suffocated her and set Dolohov on a chemical high.

But she refused to let it stop her. She had vowed to end the threat he posed. She would do it or die. She hated the thought of how that would hurt James, but her sense of duty would not let her act otherwise.

~o~

"Scotty, is it possible to get a transporter lock on her?"

"Nay, Captain. There are too many power fluctuations for a good transporter lock. And the way the lassie is moving… It wouldna be a wise idea Captain."

"Spock, any suggestions?"

"Nothing at this point Captain. Anyone who steps in will only be a target and distraction. I have ordered the security teams to detain all others present since they are most likely Dolohov's unwitting accomplices."

McCoy moved to stand beside him. "She won't be happy if you interfere, if you don't let her finish this. She gave up her world to be the one to take Dolohov out," he pointed out in a low voice.

Jim knew Bones was right. He couldn't pull her out, not now. As much as he hated seeing her in danger, she wouldn't be Hermione if she didn't fight her own battles. Besides there was no guarantee the security teams could do a better job against a psychotic murderous wizard.

There was nothing else to do but wait and watch and pray.

~o~

He was slipping now, making careless mistakes. Mistakes that she exploited ruthlessly. The Death Eater was lacerated and bleeding badly from several cuts that resisted his efforts at healing spells. She was certain his ribs and left side were bruised badly, the left knee possibly wrenched.

He was clearly tiring as well. He did not have the energy for any big spells either. His repertoire had become more basic and less energy-intensive, though no less dangerous. He was calculating his words now instead of using simple generic taunts, trying to get her to lose focus.

"You are a fool Granger!"

She did not respond.

"You've exiled yourself, chasing me into this world! You can't go back!"

She responded with a Bone-Breaker that was blocked by a hastily levitated slab of masonry.

"But then again, you have no one to go back to, do you? No one wanted you! No wizard would willingly marry a barren witch!"

~o~

On the _Enterprise_ Uhura tensed and looked at Jim Kirk. Her mouth opened then closed. She wanted to know but was hesitant to ask.

Jim pretended not to see and instead focused on the additional data being transmitted from the away teams. He remembered the first break in their careful choreographed dance… when she had returned from a medical appointment with Bones, a look of mingled relief and grief on her face. It was then that she had confessed the truth of her situation, that she had no way home, the real reason why she made the decision to leave her world behind and track down Dolohov: because if she didn't there would be no justice, only a rising body count.

~o~

The taunts had become personal, painful. Still, she refused to rise to his bait and responded with Augmenti followed by Glacis. He was out of her line of sight but she must have hit him because he cried out. She followed up with a Reducto to destroy his shelter, and had to duck herself to avoid his Blood Boiling curse.

He laughed gleefully. "I'm right, aren't I? Unworthy, undesired, unwanted! I bet the blood traitor cast you off when he found out. You weren't worthy of sacrificing his lineage. No wizard wants a witch who can't give him heirs."

And it was true. No one has suspected that the Purple Flames curse Dolohov had used on Hermione in the Department of Mysteries had a secondary side-effect. Only an expert in the Dark Arts would have known, and the wizarding world shied away from anything related to the Dark Arts, even knowledge that could save lives. Hermione had taken the whole summer after her Fifth Year to recover, but no one had thought to do a complete follow-up examination for other, more subtle, effects.

The lingering poison of the Purple Flames curse had damaged and scarred her womb and ovaries in the weeks after she had been subjected to the curse. Damage that had only been detected months after the Final Battle - far too late to do any good. When she finally returned to complete her Seventh Year Madame Pomfrey had insisted on a thorough check-up and had detected the scarred tissue. She had tried to heal the damage but it resisted all magical treatment, spells and potions.

Hermione had been devastated. She had not planned on having children right after graduating, but she had always planned on having at least two when she was older and settled. Now that the dream was forever denied to her, she had mourned the loss. What had nearly destroyed her was Ron's reaction to her plight: he had broken up with her. Harry had been furious. Ginny's defence of Ron had resulted in Harry breaking up with her in turn.

After that, Harry and Hermione had refused all invitations to the Burrow and minimized their interactions with the Weasley family. Luna's company had been a welcome relief, and when eventually she and Harry had started dating, Hermione had been truly happy for them even as it made her own situation more bitter. They had married when Harry graduated from the Auror Academy, and a year later Hermione had stood godmother to their little boy. When she left, Matthew Potter was two years old and looking forward to his yet-to-be-born sibling.

Now, Hermione choked back tears, striving not be distracted by Dolohov's vicious words. She did not know - would never know - if Luna had a boy or a girl. Her heart raced with sudden fury. It was this bastard's fault that she was here, far away from Harry and Luna and all the people who cared for her.

"Oh, dear," came Dolohov's voice, dripping with mock sympathy. "Have I hurt your feelings? I do apologize, how dreadful of me."

She forced her pulse to slow, pushed her emotions aside. She needed to finish this quickly. She sheathed her wand and unhooked her _kamas_. The matte metal warmed as she focused her magic through them like crude wands. Then she pushed her magic out to locate Dolohov.

There! Hiding behind the walk-in storage crate.

She lashed out with the _kamas_, pushing nearly all her magic through them. Twin crescents of blue light flashed from the blades and flew through the air, cutting cleanly through the metal. She barely managed to keep from falling to her knees. One spell had drained nearly half her reserves. Ordinarily the cutting hexes could not penetrate metal or stone, but Hermione had devised a heavy-duty variant version of the spell that focused the essence of wind and light through the edge of a cutting implement.

She heard his scream but did not trust that he was completely incapacitated.

She sheathed one _kama_ and drew her wand. Holding both weapons up and at the ready, she moved towards the oversized metal crate now lying in pieces, as though cut by a giant wielding a knife.

Dolohov was also in pieces. His wand-arm lay several feet away from him on the stony ground, his intact hand scrabbling for his wand on the ground. Blood from the stump was pooling under him and expanding rapidly. The crescent blades had cut a large chunk out of his right thigh and hip as well. She could see exposed bone and sliced muscle. He said nothing but glared at her, breath whistling through teeth clenched against the pain.

She stood looking down at him. "You are a fool, Dolohov. Magical and twentieth-century Muggle medicine could do nothing for me, but twenty-third century medical science and Starfleet's doctors have healed all the damage caused by your curse."

"Liar," he managed to gasp out.

She smirked at his look of frustrated fury. "Oh, no. It is truly quite remarkable. Science has advanced to the point that - at least in some cases - it easily beats magic. Doctor Piper cloned and grew new tissue to graft and repair the scar tissue your curse caused. He reassured me I will have no problem conceiving or bearing children once I am ready to do so. The _Enterprise_ CMO has confirmed the diagnosis as well."

Dark blue eyes widened in shock then narrowed with hatred. She felt his gathering intent before he voiced the curse and rapidly cast the strongest shielding charms she knew.

"Fiend Fyre!" he shouted with all the strength left in his dying body.

Blue and red flames burst from his wand tip. She held up crossed arms to protect her face and turned away slightly. She shaped the shields to protect her exposed skin, her head and hands. The flames washed over her, skimming the protective bubble less than an inch from her skin. Her long skirt burst into fire near the hem and the material burned up towards her waist. Her protective shield was strongest just over her flesh and lost strength more than one inch away. Luckily, the skin tight dragonhide pants and vest she wore underneath protected her. She did not let the fact she was on fire distract her as she cast the experimental runes she had developed to cage and contain the living flames.

If she had had more energy, or enough warning to prepare a proper container, or a partner, the flames could have been contained until it was safe to let them free to burn. Unfortunately she was alone and tired and without a containment unit. She couldn't contain the flames much longer. She could only redirect them, so she did. Towards the one who had ignited them.

Antonin Dolohov screamed as the fires consumed his clothing, his flesh, his hair.

Hermione expanded the haft of her _kama_ until it resembled a full-sized scythe and brought it down it like an executioner's blade.

The screams stopped. Dolohov's head bounced once before rolling away from his corpse.

Wordlessly she ended the enchantment and restored the scythe to its smaller size. Wearily she turned around - and froze. All around her, surrounding the duelling zone, were Starfleet personnel and Klingons. Perhaps it was a good thing there was no Ministry of Magic around to charge her with breaking the Statute of Secrecy.

Carefully she sheathed her wand and rehooked her _kama_ on her hips before slipping out of her dragonhide coat. The scraps of burnt fabric that used to be her skirt and shirtfront fell off. She brushed off the charred ashes of the parts of her blouse that had not been protected by dragonhide and shrugged out of the rest to reveal a high-necked dragonhide vest, its two separate pieces (front and back) laced up the sides with rows of hook closures at the shoulders. Her pants were made of the same material, with laced closings at the sides from the waist to just below the curve of her hips. As she stretched and moved small glimpses of pale skin could be seen between the lacings.

She picked up her jacket and slipped her arms into the sleeves, settling the material on her shoulders, smoothing the panels. Now she was completely covered except for her head and hands. She did have a detachable hood and gloves in her trunks though. She had not thought Dolohov would be insane enough to use Fiendfyre in front of so many witnesses. But then again, the inner-circle Death Eaters were insane and amoral.

Now only one question remained. What in Merlin's name was she supposed to tell the Klingons? How was she going to explain this to the them?

Luckily, she had a champion among them. Freika pushed through the warriors with a fierce exultant teeth-baring grin. "Hermione, daughter of Jean."

Hermione inclined her head and reciprocated the acknowledgment. "Freika, daughter of Halda."

"You have battled your enemy, the cur responsible for the cowardly attack on the trading post."

"Yes."

"You wrenched your victory, his life, from him with your two hands, with your blades."

It was the truth. "Yes."

Freika turned to her fellow Klingons. "The daughter of Jean has won her battle against an enemy that would have killed most Klingons. She faced him across the killing ground with her weapons, her strength, her blade." Freika spat upon Dolohov's corpse. "This _petaQ_ led the humans responsible for the attack upon our people, our fallen. And this human woman has avenged them!"

"Battle mage!" Hermione wasn't sure who first said it but the phrase was picked up and echoed throughout the ranks of the Klingons present and eventually even shouted by the Starfleet personnel.

"Battle mage! Battle mage! Battle mage! Battle mage! Battle mage!"

An older Klingon male made his way to the front to stand before her. The Klingons fell silent. "You were with the Starfleet Vulcan."

Recognizing the Klingon Governor, Hermione inclined her head. "Yes."

Kargh glared at the charred headless corpse. "And this _ptark_?"

"My enemy, my target, my mission."

He made a scoffing sound. "The Federation is soft! They do not sanction executions!"

She looked up at him. "I could kill you where you stand right now and none of you could stop me. But why should I? It is too easy." Kargh was taken aback by her words. "But there is no honour in victory won on an unequal battlefield," she went on. "There is no challenge when victory is guaranteed. Victory is not victory unless it is won through blood, sweat, and tears."

She turned to look upon each Klingon present. "Antonin Dolohov was an old enemy. I fought him when I was fifteen and he cursed me. I battled him when I was eighteen, and I won, and he was imprisoned. When he escaped and fled, my superiors ordered me to stop him by any means necessary. I followed him into exile across the Mists because he was an honourless dog who sought to spread hate and destruction. I tracked him down like prey because he and his kind are my prey. I cut him down like a rabid beast because he was one. I feel no shame. I am proud. My enemy is dead! My House, my people, my allies are safe!"

The Klingons roared in approval, raising their own unsheathed blades into the air.

Kargh inclined his head. "Well fought, Hermione, daughter of Jean, First battle mage of this Age. You bring honour to your House, your people. If you were one of us, Kahless will welcome you in Sto'Vo'Kor."

Hermione bowed shallowly from the waist. "I am honoured."

Sharp brown eyes bored into hers. "You said you crossed the Mists."

Hermione inclined her head. "Yes."

"From when and where?"

"The past." Her face filled with grief. "My kin are gone, my lands lost, but my memories and honour remain."

"And what will you do now that your Quest is concluded, Hermione, daughter of Jean?"

"I will live and honour their memories."

"Ah." He turned around to look at each of the witnesses, Klingon and human alike. "Let it be known. From this day Hermione, daughter of Jean, is ally to Kargh, son of Mbrak." The few shocked expressions and grumbles of dismay were drowned out by the resounding roar of approval. In a lower voice Kargh continued. "We will feast today. Join us at my table and share your tales of battle."

Hermione inclined her head. "I am honoured. But first I must make my report to Captain Kirk and Admiral Pike, that Dolohov is no more."

Kargh nodded. "Very good. Make your report, then join us, Hermione, daughter of Jean. We will feast, share tales and drink bloodwine into the morning light!"

Hermione bowed and stepped back, then turned to walk slowly towards Spock. The Vulcan looked both irate and awed.

"What did you just do?"

"Laid the first stones of an alliance with the Klingons."

"You revealed Classified information!"

Hermione shrugged. "They may be classified to Starfleet personnel but not to me. I told Admiral Pike I would share my truths with those I chose."

"But why the Klingons?" Spock wanted to know.

"I suppose you would not know." She enjoyed his confusion for a moment - there were so few things Spock didn't know - before taking pity on him. "Klingons have mage blood. Freika and Kargh would be classified as squibs. They do not have a dense enough magical core to manipulate the energy, but they have the other attributes such as resistance to magic, fast healing, longevity, sensitivity, and instincts. It is possible there are full-blown magicals in the Klingon Empire. Or they may have died off a century or so back. But they still remember. They honour me with a title reserved for their magical warriors: Battle Mage."

Spock rocked back on his metaphorical heels. "We must inform the Captain and Admiral Pike."

Hermione did not disagree with that. She waited and watched as Spock gave Lt Giotto instructions before joining her. He tapped his communicator and spoke. "_Enterprise_, this is Spock. Two to beam up."

~o~

Jim was pacing in the transporter room. He had listened to Hermione's interaction with the Klingon Governor of the planet, his unheard of invitation… to Feast at a Warrior's table.

It was the one reason why the Federation had failed to even begin diplomatic interactions with the Empire: Federation diplomats were not warriors. The Federation Council had tried appointing a suitable Starfleet Admiral to the position but it had not worked. Klingons respected only those who had taken the life of an enemy in personal combat, with a blade. Most Starfleet Admirals fought their battles at a distance with photon torpedoes, or very rarely with phasers, never knives or swords.

Once Pike knew Hermione had an in with the Klingons he would push to appoint her as Ambassador. A full treaty was still likely decades away, but the first step had been taken. He was proud and afraid. Proud of her accomplishment and what it would mean for the Federation. Afraid because it would put her on a path away from him.

He watched the shimmer of the transporter beam build then fade to reveal Spock and Hermione on the pad. She looked tired and weary. Her outfit was suspiciously dark and gleaming wet in spots.

He saw her sway unsteadily as she stepped off the pad, Spock reaching out to grip her shoulder. Then he was there as she collapsed against him. Reflexively he wrapped his arms around her to keep her upright. "You're exhausted."

She murmured something indistinct. Jim took it as agreement.

"You're not going to do that again."

She lifted her head from his shoulder to meet his eyes. "I will. If I have to, I will."

He tightened his grip around her. "You're probably going to be assigned as Ambassador to the Klingon Empire."

She shrugged. "Perhaps. But the usual methods will not work. To win enough prestige to be invited to the Chancellor's table my name must be known. I must fight and win many battles." She touched his cheek with a small smile. "Such opportunity is more readily found on an exploration mission. I'm sure Admiral Pike will agree."

Jim drew her close and buried his face in her neck. She smelled of smoke, blood and sweat. Reluctantly he drew away. "Come on. I'm sure Bones will want to give you a check-up before you rest."

Hermione sighed internally but conceded to his implicit order. "Yes. And I need my leathers cleaned for the dinner invitation. I'm afraid it will have to be done by hand."

Jim did not hesitate to delegate the task. "I'll get one of the Yeomen to do it." He turned to Spock. "Can you start the preliminary report for Starfleet? I'll join you once I've dropped Hermione off in Sick Bay."

"Affirmative, Captain." Spock acknowledged the order before exiting the transporter room.

Scotty stepped around from behind the console and smiled at the couple. "Welcome back, lassie."

Hermione grinned at the Scot. The familiar brogue of a land she grew up in. "It's good to be back, Scotty." And then she allowed James to take her to Sick Bay.

She had potions she could use but she preferred to be treated by local means. It might take longer, but she would heal. Once her potions were gone, they were gone for good since she had not determined a local source of magical ingredients. Perhaps the Klingon Empire might be able to help with that. A trade on restricted goods in return for magical or enchanted objects, perhaps? Nothing dangerous, just knick-knacks that could become family heirlooms. It was a possibility. She needed to talk to Freika to determine the exact stance Klingons had on magicals. And if a black-ops operation (sanctioned or not) moved to control her and duplicate her abilities, perhaps the Klingon Empire could be a potential refuge.

There was so much to research and consider, but right now all Hermione wanted was a soft bed and a hot bath. Not necessarily in that order.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Later that same evening, Hermione surveyed her escort in the _Enterprise_ transporter room. He was the only one who would be accompanying her to Governor Kargh's dinner.

He fidgeted, but not as much as he would have in full-dress uniform. He wore his usual on-duty uniform with a few additions: a belt with loops for a tricorder, phaser and a collapsible _katana_ purchased from the same craftsman as Sulu's, knives tucked into his boot sheaths, and wrist holsters with three throwing knives in each.

"I feel overly armed," he grumbled.

"As you should be when going to a Klingon house," she chided as she straightened his collar and cuffs. "If you aren't they'll take it as an insult, signifying that you do not consider them a threat."

He gave her a quick once-over. She wore the same leather pants and boots (now clean and supple with polish) but with a different top, one that looked more like a corset over a fine short-sleeved round-necked shirt. Her arms were bare except for heavy gold coils on her biceps shaped like snakes with bared fangs and pointed tails, jewellery enchanted for endurance and healing; a gift from Adrian. Around her right forearm was a holster consisting of narrow straps and lacings, designed to hold her wand along the inside. The inside of her left forearm was covered with intricate designs that looked like vaguely Oriental script. Around her neck was a heavy gold torc with double bejewelled dragon heads at the base of her throat. Her hair was twisted into an elaborate coronet and pinned back, revealing her fine features bare of make-up, her deceptive fragility. In each ear lobe she wore simple gold studs. Thrust through a loop on each hip were matte black batons, her _kamas_. Extending above the cuffs of her boots, he could see the leather-wrapped handles of her _sais_.

She bent to pick up her black leather satchel. The movement emphasized the tempting curves of her bottom and hips. For a moment Jim was tempted to insist she wear the jacket then he discarded the idea and joined her on the pad.

He caught Scotty's eye and gave the order. "Energize."

~o~

On Sierra V a group of four Klingons, three males (one older) and one female, waited outside the Governor's Mansion.

The youngest male stiffened upon seeing the white shimmer of a Federation transporter beam. When the beam faded it revealed two humans: the battle mage and a blonde human male.

The mage stepped forward. "Governor Kargh, I am honoured to introduce you to Captain James Kirk of the Federation starship _Enterprise_."

Kargh started upon hearing the identity of the youth, the captain of Starfleet's flagship. He had seen the images and heard the tales, but to see the Defeater of the _Narada_ in person…

"Captain James Tiberius Kirk, Destroyer of Nero," the Klingon mused. "What an unexpected pleasure." He grinned fiercely. "Battle mage, is James Kirk your chosen mate?"

Kirk stiffened but did not say anything, merely watched, his body shifting into a deceptively casual stance.

Hermione, daughter of Jean, merely nodded. "James Kirk is my mate. In the fullness of time our union will be formalized."

Kargh studied the youth and noted the calm unyielding challenge in bright blue eyes. This one had fire in his heart, a warrior's spirit. "The destroyer of the _Narada_ is a worthy match for the first human Battle Mage."

The mage smiled slightly, baring her teeth in the Klingon way. "My mate, my choice."

Kargh laughed, not taking offence. Klingon females were very protective of their kin, their mates and offspring. Given her warrior spirit it was understandable that the daughter of Jean would be the same.

"Come. Tonight we will feast and share tales of past battles and glories won."

~o~

Hermione kept her face pleasantly neutral as she followed the Klingon governor into the dim smoky hall illuminated with recessed lighting and red-tinted lights. She felt a pang of homesickness. The hall with its archaic long table and benches reminded her of the Great Hall at Hogwarts. The dais at the front of the room and its long table were reserved for the Governor and his honoured guests.

She watched the teenage warriors-in-training serve blood wine and stand near the entryways for orders, like squires at a medieval banquet. She sipped the bloodwine. It was strong but nothing she could not handle. She resisted the urge to smile when James coughed on the strong potent liquor. Then an idea struck her.

"Governor Kargh, a gift for your House and your warriors."

The Klingon cocked his head inquiringly. She opened her satchel and pulled out two bottles of golden fluid. One she placed on the head table before Kargh, the other she opened herself and poured two fingers worth into a conjured shotglass.

Steeling her gut she threw it back and blew out a ring of gold sparks.

The Klingons roared with approval.

She held up the bottle. "Fifty-year old Fire whiskey from my ancestral lands. Each bottle contains a keg's worth of liquor." Carefully she refilled her glass and conjured another shotglass for Jim and filled it as well.

Kargh turned to one of the teens standing closest to him. There was a vague familial resemblance, perhaps a grand-son or nephew. Hermione passed the opened bottle to the young man, who carefully poured the liquor into the Governor's tankard before serving the rest of the Klingons at the High Table. While the boy served the other attendees Hermione spoke to the Governor.

"I have few bottles from my lands and lack the means and knowledge to brew replacements in this world."

Kargh cocked his head and smiled toothily. "Perhaps we can come to some accommodation."

Hermione inclined her head. "That would be mutually beneficial."

"Of course."

There was some silence while they waited for all the attendees to be served. When they were done Kargh raised his glass and shouted a Klingon toast echoed by his men.

Hermione raised her own glass with her own toast.

"May your enemies fear your presence, may your blood burn forever, may your spirit drink and do battle beside Kahless in Sto'Vo'Kor!"

Luckily James had the presence of mind to follow her lead. "To honourable battle and victory over your enemies!"

The Klingons roared and downed their drinks. Hermione and James followed suit.

The liquor hit her hard. She grinned broadly. She was free. Dolohov was dead. She had made contact with a race who believed in magic and possibly had their own mages. She had the love of a brilliant intelligent man. She could see the potential of a bright future for all of them. She needed the Klingons to believe, to follow her lead.

She cast a wandless Sonorous and began speaking. Her voice was clear enough to be heard by all those present, even those in the farthest corners of the hall.

"Let me tell you a tale of magic, of battle and victory and loss, of honour and courage and strength, in a land far far away…"

The Klingons roared in approval and settled down on the closest benches to listen. The Federation might lock her up as insane or try to drag her secrets from her but the Klingons wouldn't. Not if she established herself as a warrior and hero in her own right.

"Of three children, two boys and a girl, a Trio who grew up and fought and shed blood and took lives… because it was right, to protect and to champion those who could not, because the ones who ruled would not…"

She moved into the centre of the Hall, so everyone could see her.

"They were children, but make no mistake, they were warriors! They battled against enemies adults feared and fled from… A monstrous Troll the size and strength of three fully-grown Klingon warriors but with the wits of a swaddling child. A basilisk, a sixty-foot long snake twice as thick as the height of the tallest Klingon warrior in this hall and fangs bigger than any bat'leth ever forged, with eyes that petrify and venom as potent as the most powerful of acids…"

She would not forget Harry and Ron and all her magical friends. She wanted to honour them the best way she could. She wanted to honour their courage and strength for taking a stand and fighting for what they believed in. For so long she had contained herself, being so very careful in sharing the truth about her past. It was a relief to share it with those who would listen and believe and approve and applaud. She flashed a reassuring smile at James before turning to her audience.

James Kirk was her love and he believed in the Federation. Hermione knew the Federation had its flaws but there were good and genuine people striving to make the right choices. Right now the Federation was weakened and shaky. They had lost Vulcan and a major percentage of their hulls and experienced personnel. Tensions were rising among the major stellar powerhouses and there was an increasing possibility of war.

But Hermione knew there was strength in unity, and no matter how bad things seemed there was always the risk of something worse just over the horizon. As the wheel turned, fortunes rose and faded, winter followed summer and night followed day. Hermione was determined to make sure her new world was prepared for the storms that lay just beyond the horizon. When it came they would be ready.

But now she had a tale to tell and a myth to weave. Before the night was over these Klingons would believe in Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, in human mages, in the fires of a human spirit. And if it helped her forge stronger ties with the Empire so be it.

~o~

Jim watched Hermione weave her magic, using just words and her voice. This was the first time he had heard her tell the full tale of her past and Jim could understand why she had kept parts of it to herself. It was almost fantastical, but his gut told him every word was the literal truth, not metaphor.

As the minutes passed his glass was refilled, first with the Fire whiskey and then with Blood wine. He tried to be conservative but he couldn't help but respond to the enthusiasm of the Klingons around him, their tendency to toast - loudly and enthusiastically - whenever Hermione finished describing a duel or battle.

Jim knew he could not report the tale in its entirety to Starfleet. Then again, perhaps he could, only emphasizing the metaphorical nature of the story…

As Hermione continued Jim became aware of an unexpected emotion. He was proud of Hermione. She might have been born into a comfortable family but she was a fighter, a survivor, just like him. She had done nasty things to survive and felt no need to justify herself to others. She had done what she had to.

At that moment Jim Kirk knew that one day Hermione Granger would become his wife and the mother of his children. The only variable was when.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

The End.

~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~ooo~

AN: Am considering the following concept... Many fics, each an alternate timeline based on the same premise (Hermione being sent on a one-way mission); each story would be of her ending in a different dimension. I even have the idea of her no-return mission being to DCverse (hook up with Bruce?) or Marvelverse (hmmm, so many possibilities). But that is an idea for the future. Right now I've got other fics and plots on the go. Sable, feel free to PM me to discuss the details of you working on a timeline, splinter verse.

Review, Review, Review


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